A Lucky Charm in the World of Cultivation

Northern Qin County, Green Mountain Fort.

Outside the window, the northern wind lashed the glass like a knife. Though it was the dead of night, the world was startlingly bright.

“Not good, there are wolves!” On the outer ramparts, perched atop the high walls of the fort, the warrior Hawk kept his silent vigil. His eyesight was always sharp—he could see a hundred paces even in darkness, and now, after ten days of heavy snow, the mountains were shrouded in a thick white blanket. Even at night, everything was visible. In the distance, he saw wolves constantly crossing over the ridges, drawing ever closer to the fort.

Hawk took out an ox horn and blew into it. A piercing call echoed over the entire fort. He blew three times before stopping.

The peaceful fort was immediately roused by the signal. One by one, candles flickered to life inside the stone houses. Everyone who heard the horn understood—the fort was in danger.

The grown men wasted no words, tumbling from their warm beds, dressing quickly, and grabbing their most trusty weapons before hurrying to the ramparts. Their wives remained behind, anxious, tending to the children and the old.

In a stone house on the eastern edge of the fort, a young woman dressed hurriedly, worry etched on her face as she looked at her husband. She couldn’t help but admonish him, “Be careful out there!”

“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.” He answered briskly, throwing on a cloak of animal hide, seizing the long spear propped against the wall, and stepping out into the night.

Qin, the young wom